Ladies And Gentlemen: Our Hunger Games Contest!

Hah! I’d probably die after teaming up with someone and then getting too saucy, annoying them and then getting killed. Or I’d just dehydrate to death, seeing as how my only skills are kickboxing, rollerskating and cooking.

There’s a high likelihood that I would receive some minor flesh wound (a cut from a branch, for instance) and not pay any attention to it while I hid away waiting for everyone to kill each other off.  Then, when there was only about one or two people left, I would die of an infection from the tiny scrape ’cause I was too silly and didn’t disinfect the wound.

I would kill myself by stepping off the plate before the minute was up. It’s fast, painless, and wouldn’t require that I kill anyone else. Well, that’s what I’d like to think. More likely I’d abandon my principles, make a go for it, and get stabbed in the head during the initial rush at the cornucopia. 

I imagine I’d likely attempt to orchestrate a synchronized suicide pact with several of the other tributes as a way of showing the capitol that my life was still mine to do with it as I chose. I would refuse to perform in their reality show meets snuff film. 

I am a slow, clumsy person so I’m pretty sure I’d trip and fall running away from the cornucopia. I’d be one of the first to go, which would be good because my survival skills are dependent on kitchens and indoor plumbing.

I would die very quickly. I am not terribly athletic and rather clumsy.I would get taken out in the first 5 min. by someone more agressive or trip fall of a cliff, . It would most likely be something that cause face palming by everyone I knew.

Things would get ugly around the time my blood sugar started to drop. Sure, I’d probably take out a good number of competitors in a fit of pure hangry (hungry/angry) rage, but then I’d start to try eating unidentified plants, berries, animals, and various inanimate objects out of desperation — that would ultimately be my downfall (those tricky game-makers).

I feel pretty confident I would starve to death first–because there’s no way I could force myself to catch, kill, and eat squirrel. I can hide and I can fight, but there’s no changing the fact that I won’t touch a mushroom.

Probably the Gamemakers would engineer it that I step on a land mine from the start because they found me trying to sneak in a towel. Or I’d snap at one of the other Tributes at the wrong time and they would dig my heart out with a dull spoon.

I would die trying to save the life of some small animal that was about to get hunted down by one of the other tributes to be eaten. The animal would probably not live either. Poor little squirrel/bunny/chipmunk.

I’d love to believe I’d go out in a blaze of glory during the actual Games, but it is much more likely that during my initial interview with Caeser Flickerman I’d trip on my ridiculous costume, fall off the stage, and land on something sharp that didn’t look that deadly until I impaled myself on it and died instantly. I’d probably be the first Tribute to ever get a standing ovation for having the dumbest and most pointless death ever. ;)

I would probably wind up trying to make a bold move straight for the Cornucopia, manage to grab a few items and then get shot in the back right as I was dashing away!

I’ll be honest.  One of the careers would get me as I tried to get my ass to the cornucopia to get supplies in the opening minutes, even seconds of the game.  This is why I should probably be training in case these games become a reality.    

After being unable to grab anything from the cornucopia, I would probably right blunder into a nest of tracker jackers within the first 10 minutes.

I’d be one of those buffoons who blunders into a landmine or trap. One minute thinking I’m on top of the world and awesome, the next minute going, “Oh fffuuu-” and dying.

Seeing as I know nothing about the wild, I’d most likely die from a poison berry. I’m hoping I’d make it look pretty neat like Katniss did. But, I know in reality I’d just look like the idiot that ate the ONLY poison berry.

I know myself too well. I would hide out and survive (barely) for a few days, but with that much time to myself, I’d begin getting proud, and  thinking I could make a grand, heroic gesture. Something to change my standings in the game – something to make an impression. The feeling would build and build until I finally snap and take the chance…whereupon a meet my doom quickly. Fortune favors the bold, however, the Games…rarely do. 

I am fairly confident that I would either a) Die the first day because I got stung by tracker jackers while trying to climb in a tree or b) somehow make it to the end because I was so scared I hid the whole time and everyone thought I was already dead/forgot about me.

Heading for the Cornucopia is a sucker’s bet, I’m bolting for the woods as soon as possible.  Unfortunately for me, that probably means a slow death by dehydration.  Finding a clean water supply is both essential and deadly, because everyone else will be looking for it too.  My death will be from either not finding said supply, or getting capped while tapping the stream.  Should my murder be waterless, I will write my epitaph with twigs and stones, a scathing message of hatred for the Capitol meant for no one but left for all to see.  Should my murder be victory for another, I will return their blade in kind as I fall, for I am no one’s prize.  

I would die of heart failure immediately after winning the Games; partially because I’d be staggered at how quickly I killed that tall blond wuss with Katniss Everdeen, and partially because I love irony.

I would like to think I would step off the plate and then kneel down, offering myself as a sacrifice, while simultaneously flipping off the cameras. Sort of an “in your face” statement suicide. But, I’d probably just run and get shot/stabbed in the back. Either way, I couldn’t kill anyone.

Flip off the cameras then step off early. Screw the Capitol.

As much as I’d like to say I’d go out in some kick-ass one-on-one hand combat right at the end… Knowing me, I’d probably be too loud and slow and be taken out by a career almost as soon as the games begin.

May the odds be ever in your favor. ;) :)

I’d probably make it to the woods without getting much more than a knife, but once safely hidden, I’d set to work producing some weapon, like an atlatl or slingshot. I’d do fairly well with it, but the little nick on my hand I got making my weapons would eventually go red, than swell, and even if I managed to out-hide the Careers and out-hunt the fox-faced scavenger types, blood poisoning or depression over killing a hapless little animal would get me in the end.

I would be ripped to shreds by one of the Careers.  I’d be in such a hurry to run into the woods that I would run right into a Career and that would be in the end of me.

I think that I would die because of my need to be in charge all of the time and because of my fiesty attitude.  I would team up with the guy tribute from my district and just boss him around the entire time.  I’m also really dramatic so I would literally do anything to get the attention of sponsors even if it annoyed him.  We would be down to like six people and then, tired of the little girl bossing him around, he would beg the others to just kill me already.  

I would hide out and wait for other people to kill each other. Then I would come out and pick a fight with the person I dislike the most. I wouldn’t run. I would fight that person to the death and injure them as much as I could just to spite them and to ruin their chances of winning the Games. 

I am pretty sureI would be standing there, glaring at the cornucopia, trying to perfect my intense/sexy/determined visage for the cameras when a Career comes up behind me and snaps my neck. Cannon shot and cloud pic for me!

I’d probably be mouthing off most of the time about the heartless, elitist Gamekeepers and Capitol. I’d be so pissed about it, I wouldn’t notice the tracker-jackers and would have to run for my life towards the ocean in the arena. I’d definitely get stung right before I hit the water and then, as I tripped out on the sting poison, I’d drown in the tsunami sent by the Keepers to flood the arena.

I think I’d have to go the Foxface approach, and be sneaky and hide a lot, maybe steal from others while their backs are turned. This would keep me alive for a little while, but then my archnemesis would finally get me–the sun. I’m one of those blessedly pale folk, and even one day of open sun exposure would be enough to give me a righteous sunburn bad enough that I’d be stuck puking and trying not to let my skin touch anything.

Death by sun fricassee for me.

I’d probably try to make a political statement with my death.  With my luck though, I’d just be tracker-jacked until I was babbling uncontrollably and died in a haze of hallucination. 

Realistically, all my piloxing and hot yoga classes did not help me prepare for the Hunger Games other than possibly just trying to outlive the other tributes and surviving extreme heat. I’m going to go that disguising myself way under mud and getting stuck under there once it cakes up and gets too heavy for my lungs. Suffocation by mud.

I would probably be devoured by a herd of mutated animals. Like squirrverines, hummingbears, or chipmuasauruses.

I would spell out “F-U Capitol!” in rocks then sit there and sing a rebel song until I was killed. It would be the only way to ensure the cameras caught my message!

I can’t win (non-US citizen), but I’ve actually thought a lot about this question.  I’d step off my starting ring in the first few seconds of the game while the bombs are still active, preferably yelling somethign political about the unfairness of the Panem society. (It would also keep me from dying the painful, clumsy death I’d likely achieve if I had to really fight in the games!)

I’d probably think of doing a political statement by not playing the game – like just sitting down and hope the other tributes kill me fast enough that I won’t suffer. When the games start I’ll probably chicken out of that plan, run to the next forest and die from an asthma attack.

I would probably die right away.  I would start to run to the cornucopia, would twist an ankle.  As I started falling I would over-correct, slinging my quiver of arrows around to the front of my body, and setting me up for being stabbed by all of my misloaded, upside down arrows. Hunger Games officially over, in embarrassment, for my district…Cue the sad music montage.

The odds are in favor of me meeting my death bum-first; my balance is shot, so I would probably fall off my platform as soon as the tributes enter the arena and before the minute was up, completely by accident. 

There’s no way I’d overpower or outrun anyone at the Cornucopia if I survived entering the arena, so my best chance for survival would be to find cover and try to wait it out.  And one night I would be found and murdered in my sleep after my snores led the other tributes to my location.  Stupid sleep apnea…

Let’s be honest, I would die of dehydration – probably because I would be constantly wetting my pants.

Well if I made it off the plate and into the woods safely, I think I’d be fine. Up until the time came to get some rest, and then I’d most likely climb a tree to sleep and end up rolling off the branch (forgetting in my haste to tie myself to the tree) and fall to my death. Either that or one of the Careers would get me.

If I didn’t die in the first scrum at the Cornucopia, I’d probably be overpowered in a fight. I could survive in the wild longer than I could in a fight, and I’m sure that sheer terror would prevent me from totally keeping to my pacifistic ideals. Like Haymitch, I’d keep going till I get to the end of everything. Unlike Haymitch, I’d be killed by the Careers. My final words: “I smell bread…”

I would probably die of an aneurysm from the stress of being picked. Probably moments after my name was picked. Worst. Tribute. Evar.

I would die before I even made it to the Capitol. I would stuff my face with all of that glorious food and die happily in the arms of Lenny Kravitz…I mean Cinna…no I definitely mean Lenny Kravitz. Best way to go out in my opinion.

I would die almost immediately. Due to an immense aversion to any sort of cardio workout, I would have a heart attack within five minutes. Other tributes would likely hurt themselves tripping over my lifeless body. 

Hmm…well it depends on what type of Hunger Games it is. I’ll be honest, if I was in Katniss’ first Hunger Games, I’d probably die after a few days after being hunted down by the pack, but if I was in her second Hunger Games, I think I’d have a pretty decent shot. I played water polo in high school (So maybe it’s like I was raised in District 4 and had a swimming background), so I probably would’ve stayed near the water for as long as physically possible and would lure in a few of the tributes to the water where I’d have the advantage, only to die from the Tidal Wave, or when a stronger contestant managed to overpower me. I was no Peeta at 16, there would be no grand gestures or anything from me. I’d just fight as hard as I could to get back home.

If I was playing as me now, I’d bite it in the initial rush to get supplies and weapons. I’m not athletic or a fast runner and I’m useless at survival skills.

I’d probably surprise myself and everyone I know by making it out of the Cornucopia (not much for running – but maybe they let me go because they figure I’ll be easy to eventually catch?) and then proceed to either eat something poisonous or starve because I worry that everything is poisonous.

I would be fine for the first couple of days, maybe a week, since I’m a loner with experience in archery and fencing, in addition to dabbling in cooking. I would get overconfident, and while watching another Tribute and laughing to myself how incompetent they are, I would get  stabbed/shot/skewered from behind. 

I would die after tripping and falling on one of my own arrows. All of my archery practice goes for naught. Irony, thy name is The Hunger Games.

With 42 seconds to go, I remove my left boot and toss it three plates to my right at the foot of the male tribute from District 1, a particularly vicious Career. It lands inches too far from his landmine and lies useless, while a mixture of panic and rage flashes across his face. With 27 seconds to go, I remove my right boot and aim again; KABOOM!! The blast knocks his neighbors off their plates, and two other tributes mistake it for the canon and take off too soon. When the real canon fires three seconds later, I head for the meadow to my left, but die only hours later when I step on a venomous snake with no shoes on.

Loud noises scare me. So I’d drop of a myocardial infraction when the cannon went off.

Being a smartass, I would make enemies fast among the tributes. As all of the other tributes head for the Cornucopia, I make for the woods. I make it through the first day by climbing a tree and not budging.

Eventually I would need to pee. Climbing down the tree, I fall on another tribute, killing him. This solves my food problem, so back up the tree with the fallen comrade.

Another day goes by, and the tributes thin out. I get bored, and see whats going on at the cornucopia. A single backpack remains. Shrugging, I grab it. A ticking begins. I toss the pack in to the woods, where it exploides, taking out 3 careers who were waiting for me to explode.

A figure charges at me. Apparently we are the last two remaining tributes, and this career is the clear contender.

I run away, back to my tree. The career sees me and begins the climb up. I do the only thing I can, and leap down on top of her feet first.

We land together, snapping both of our necks. I am the last to land, technically making me the winner. This is no consolation to the citizens of Pan Em, who have no champion to parade around.

I would take a thrown knife or ax to the back as I try to run away from the Cornucopia after taking too many seconds to decide if I should try to grab something.  

After a heated argument with my mentor they snap and stab me to death with a fork, forcing them to take my place in the Games. I know, it’s a pretty gruesome way to go, but it beats having to run!

I would foolishly and gullibly get into an alliance with someone who’d quite literally stab me in the back the minute I outlived my usefulness. And it absolutely would be the youngest person in the Games.  

I’d totally be the one that ate something poisonous that was made to look like something safe.  I’m not good at attention to detail and i’d likely study up just enough to think it’s safe. I’d be so scared shitless of the cornucopia I’d run the other way, and finally give in and HAVE to eat something i found in wild because i’m just SO HUNGRY (aka about 3 hours in, Lisa needs her snacks). 

While stopping to take a gigantic dump, I would be shot by the guard charged with keeping me on my minimum walking pace of 2 MPH.   

Wait, wrong teenage-death-contest story, my bad.

(Apologies to Mr. Bachman)

I would immediatly shimmy up a tree, slip into a catatonic state from the lack of internet access, and get eaten by groosling.

Watch out, we got a badass over here!

Heart pounding waiting for the signal to leave our spot. The conrucopia glitters before me, and I can’t wait to run to it but I’m standing on a landmine so I can’t move and… wait, was that the signal? Gotta move now! Oh, that wasn’t the signal. Well, crap. *BOOM* *splatter*

I’d be running from what I thought was another tribute but was really a jabberjay, trip over a rock while looking over my shoulder, slam into the barrier, and get fried.

I would fall asleep in a perfectly hidden spot, and then die of hypothermia before I realized I needed to move more to keep myself warm.

This probably wouldn’t work out, since they’ve got all sorts of safety precautions, but I’d do my very best to kill myself before the Games even start. They’d cover it up but they’d also have to admit they need another tribute because something went wrong that they couldn’t control. This would be how I’d want to die because I know I don’t have the survival or combat skills to make it out of the Cornucopia alive, and I’d rather make a statement than go down like a weakling.

Like a majority of the other people commenting on here…I am not very graceful or athletic so more than likely I would die from an arrow to the knee. I would cry out as my wound got infected and I perished…”I used to be an aspiring kid from District 8….and then I took an arrow to the knee..” so everyone watching the games could hear me.

I would be slaughtered after stripping down to my underwear to reveal that I had spent the entire first night using sticks and berries to stain “Death to President Snow!” “Sic Semper Tyrannis” and other anti-Capitol sentiments over every part of my body I could reach.

While I’d like to think I’d go out in a blaze of glory in a scene worthy of a multi-angle instant replay, it’s much more likely that I would trip over a root and crack my skull while hallucinating from tracker-jacker venom. *sniff*

I would get off to a great start by dashing to the cornucopia and then sprinting away into the woods in a zig-zag pattern before anyone could shoot me. Then I’d pick people off using sneaky traps. For instance, I’d somehow rig the cornucopia to tip over and trap several tributes inside. Then, while admiring at my own cleverness, I’d lose my contacts (or my glasses, I guess, since the people in the districts probably don’t have fancy contacts), and be shot in the back by a little girl as I’m fighting a tree that I mistake for an opponent.

Run topless to the cornucopia effectively distracting half of the competition (12 to 18 year old boys, this is too easy!) While the rest of the females use the distraction to slaughter the male competition, I make off with plenty of goodies to pick off the rest as they head for the woods. Standing gore spattered and triumphant over the pile of bodies I point to the cameras..”Snow, I am coming for you!”  Would most likely die in some unfortunate accident soon after the games but worth it :)

Dysentery

Were I brave enough, I’d leave the pad before the time was up, and get blown to bits by the mines.

I’m not brave, though. And even though I have no qualms about eating furry woodland creatures, and I can identify many safe food items, I have zero confidence in my ability to survive for long. I have disability issues, and I’m a righteous klutz, and I have the oddest, worst luck according to my friends. I’d step off the pad after the timer was up in an attempt to run and hide, somehow trip on thin air, fall on my face, and explode a mine that shouldn’t have exploded.

Kaboom.

Oh, those Gamemasters know me so well.  Little did I know that they had held prisoner Scott McCloud since 1992, forcing him to write and draw Zot!: Years 1993-2011.  Just as I am running to the forest away from my fellow contestants, I see the giant hardover by the Cornucopia.  I run back to grab it and as I die, having been stabbed by a small girl with a poison-tipped My Little Pony:Friendship is Magic ring, I flip to end only to see Zot being sucked back to his world…Jenny Weaver crying…and the words “To be continued…”  Damn.

I have to say that it was this site that actually got me to read the Hunger Games. Since you talked about it so much, I figured I should just read it! I’m glad that I did! 

Anyways, if I were a tribute, I don’t think I’d make it all that far… internet withdrawals and lack of an electric blanket would likely leave me dead from insanity and hypothermia. Though if there happened to be a bat’leth in the cornucopia… things might be different :P

I knew the second I read the books that, were I to participate, I’d die at the cornucopia. I’d be completely unable to decide what I’d need to grab. My lingering would get me into a mess of trouble, and likely result in me being run through by another competitor.

I’m pretty good at hiding. I’d be off like a flash, and find a good hiding place: hard for others to find, difficult to wiggle your way into, etc. The problem being, of course, that it’s also difficult to get OUT of. One of the other contestants finds me and BAM! I am toast, because I have nowhere to run to.

I probably wouldn’t even be very entertaining. >_> Likely just cry most of the time.

If it goes down anything like how I play lase rtag, I will burn all my energy out in the first 10 minutes trying to duck and dodge…parkour!…then get cornered by a gang of uppity 12 yr old boys who shoot me down in a glorious spectacle! There will be giggling on their behalf. My last words will be…you little effing bastards…

Hunger strike from the minute my name is drawn, suffragette-style.  Then I would be completely delirious in the woods and eat myself, choking on three layers of irony with no one to perform the Heimlich maneuver. 

Seeing as how I’m what you might call morbidly out of shape… I would try to run away from the cornucopia, collapse from my body’s complete inability to handle cardio and end up being trampled to death by the other tributes as they make it to the woods. With any luck, some residual reflex would allow me to at least junk-punch somebody as they crushed my sternum.

I would probably do something totally awesome, like climb a tree to avoid getting shot by another contestant, then immediately do something totally dumb, like fall out of said tree, twist my ankle, and then be unable to run for my life from the predators they sic on me. 

I’d probably die of dehydration as soon as is humanly possible since my entire strategy would be:
1. Find a place to hide
2. Stay there
And that’s assuming I don’t just get picked off by a career while looking for the perfect hidey-hole…

I think my avatar picture says more about how I would die than any words I could use.

I’z in yer backpack, steelin yer berries.  Poison or not.

I would bolt the moment the timer ended and probably be too slow to avoid getting shot in the back.  Even if I made it to some sort of cover, I’d most likely die of dehydration.  Either way it would be very painful.  I would cry a lot.  It would be pretty pathetic.  In fact, I’m sure enough that I’d die quickly and painfully in the Games that I’d definitely at least consider poisoning myself before they start.  At least then it’d be quick. 
The only ways I see myself genuinely trying to win are by attempting to convince all the other Tributes to just boycott the part where we kill each other (admittedly pretty much impossible) or by doing something clever (like Haymitch or the kid who moved the bombs in the first book.) 

You know that part at the start when you have to run and grab a pack? I’d probably get as far as the packs, but when running away, trip on one of the pack loops and fall. Shortly after that, I’m pretty sure I’d be solidly dispatched by the only person who would have done worse than me, if I hadn’t been such a klutz.

I would do an amazing job of having a Katniss-esque escape from the cornicopia. This would cause me to think rather highly of my speed and wit and end up getting caught by doing something silly like mumbling to myself or crunching loudly through the forest…. in fact, I sound a lot like Peeta.

But who would blame you – everyone knows a towel is about the most useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can–Oh wait, wrong book. 

Assuming I can run fast enough to make it to some cover, I would likely be poisoned by a “sponser” or die in a disaster set up early in the games. I am very political and outspoken, and despite the fact it would never be televised, I would mouth off about the Capitol the entire time. Thus, to keep me from saying anything ever again, I would be given some toxic “gift” from a higher up or in a horrible catastrophe set up by the Gamemakers.

If I didn’t die within in the first 2 minutes from any one of numerous reasons, weak ankles, bad knees, and/or an inability to move faster than a two year old, I would be forced to scavenge for food.  As I have no discernible hunting skills, I would have to resort to eating tree bark, leading to my eventual demise as I would most likely be stressed and scared, and accidentally eat White Birch bark, of which I am allergic. 

Honestly I think I would use my  wits hiding and surviving for a few days.
Only that I’d go slowly but surely paranoid overtime (Is that tree looking at me ah ?!) because of the loneliness and, as you stressed it, my definite lack of wining odds. Too bad really, I would become soon my own enemy and doom and ashamed my district :S

 I would step off my pedestal, promptly run behind it, curl into the fetal position and cry quietly until one of those District One bastards kills me out of pity.  Probably would wet myself, too, but the jury’s out on that one. 

I would die while tripping over a tree root as I tried to run away at the beginning of the fight.  Most likely while taking a spear, arrow, or insert-sharp-implement-of-death-here in the back.  I’m way too big to hide out in trees (6’0″), so my only chance would be to escape first, set ambushes, and generally use my size to intimidate…and hope that I would not instead just make a really big target.

I think I could be pretty ruthless, using what I could for weapons. And being small, it would take a bit for them to find me. Though I definitely don’t think I could be the winner.

I would most likely meet my demise by having drama back home enter with me in the Games. It would be a slow & painfull psychological break down because we all know that it’s not just about surviving the blood bath that is the Hunger Games, but also about surviving the mental war in which we fight each other. I would have conflicting emotions about everything that involves feeling, since I’m not good with expressing how I feel all that well & I tend to try & avoid the situation. All in all, I would die a very dramatic death but I would not go down without a fight, I wouldn’t be able to go without knowing that I stayed true to who I was in the Games.

I’m very conflict adverse, so I’d run/walk as far as I could and then just try to wait things out. Eventually I’d either die of diarrhea from contaminated water, or the gamemakers would throw some crazy thing at me to force me to interact with my peers more. (It’d be just like 3rd grade. I’m thinking group project. Or dodgeball with hand grenades.

Knowing me, I would more than likely go out making a political statement. At least, I’d like to believe that. No one wants to believe they’d actually die from pneumonia, contaminated water, spoiled food, or perhaps simply drowning to death. I’d fight to the end and when I know that my time is up, I’d think of something creative that would grab attention and be unexpected. More than likely, something to do with fire would be appropriate since the smoke would draw attention from other contestants and they would all witness my death. 

I think I’d pull a Thresh – finding a place to hide where I would definitely have the advantage. If there was a nice big weapon near my starting position, like a hammer or an axe, I’d grab it on my way past. Otherwise I’d wrap the biggest rock I could carry easily in my coat and turn it into a huge sling to bash peoples’ heads in. I’m large and powerful enough that I’d be enough of a threat to keep people away, but then I’d learn that a career killed someone I liked (my district partner or the youngest Games participant, most likely), go on a Roaring Rampage of Revenge, and get killed.

I would most likely die because I have short legs, my husband calls me his Hobbit Wench and we Hobbits, much like Dwarves, are good sprinters but are crap at long distances.  And being chased may give me a few extra hours but I would most likely be killed by some Cross Country runner with a slingshot…to the eye.

As a writer, my only talent in the games would be… writing…? I predict that my own pencil or pen would be used in my destruction, whether it be a clumsy trip that plunges the point into my heart, an opponent lacing my ink with poison, or (most likely) my dash for the journal/pencil packet left in Cornucopia as bait.

The pen is indeed mightier than the sword.

Alternate possibility: Paper cut infection.

After about 45 minutes, I would probably lose my mind from isolation/boredom/hunger. I would strip off all my clothes, climb to the top of the cornucopia, let out an ululation, slip and fall, breaking my neck.

I would survive until it came time to hunt. Instead of killing furry woodland creatures, I would be distracted by their sweet adorableness and proceed to build them all cozy shelters. Too distracted by feeding the critters, I would not notice the pack of Careers that single me out and send a spear through me.

I know I would be the first one to die. My personality is pretty annoying, because I talk a lot and I talk pretty fast. So I’m pretty sure I would get reallly annoying with all my story telling and get killed. I think it would be really easy to kill me, so I would probably die from someone stabbing me with a knife, it’s that simple.

I’d like to think that I’d die in this noble way, but…I’d probably die from falling on the mined ground during the countdown. 

I’d probably do alright for a few days, finding something sharp and foraging.  But it gets boring when tributes play it like that, so the gamemakers would surely force everyone together somehow.  There’d be a knife fight with one of the other tributes.  Maybe they’re stronger than me and I’m overpowered and die grappling, pushing their blade away from my throat with every sinew. But then it’s not my first knife fight and I’m scrappy, instead of being overpowered, I grasp the odd of their weapon and push it out from their body until I’m close enough to stab them.  I die as a result of the injury to my left hand.

I’m too trusting. I’d probably make a really poor decision and try to team up with someone … who would turn on me the minute we were placed at the cornucopia…

I’d run away from the Cornucopia as soon as the signal went but I’m addicted to water and start losing the ability to function if I’m without it for more than twenty minutes.  Within two hours, I’d be curled up on the ground in a dehydrated daze and another tribute would trip over me, get up, and slit my parched throat.

I would immediately run to find cover as it starts, but would be unable to decide on somewhere to hide because of my fear of bugs and spiders. And in my indecision I don’t notice the group of people behind me sneaking up. They grab me and silently slit my throat. 

I’d probably be the one everyone forgot about until near the end. Then all you’d have to do is step on my glasses (because the arena would have nowhere to clean my contacts) then wait for me to fall off a cliff.
Thanks for the great giveaway!

I think I’d die at the starting melee at the cornucopia trying to grab an early edge but overestimating my odds against a supposedly weaker opponent.

My death would come a few days into the games. I successfully escape the Cornucopia and took out at least a competitor throughout the previous days. However, my downfall would be my own. One day, upon glancing at my hands, I see the dark-brown, dried flecks of a competitors blood and recall the look of shock and helplessness, as their last breath left their body. That look of humanity, as that fleeting bit that makes us humans drains from their eyes.  I walk until I reach a capital trap and end my life, before must someone risks losing their humanity killing me.

Well, if I wasn’t killed for stupidity at the bloodbath. Then I would probably either end up starving myself because I was too scared to pick any berries or anything in fear that they might be poisonous. Or, being the curious person I am, I might discover the force field and end up killing myself somehow with that. Either running in to it or throwing something at it and it rebounds and kills me. 

Though naturally introverted and shy, I can strike up a cameraderie with almost anyone from any background…so maybe, just maybe, the Careers find me useful enough to accept into their group. Being a tad unscrupulous, just as soon as I’ve survived the cornucopia and been assured at least one day of safety with the Careers, I’ll sabotage them, steal some gear, and head out on my own. I’m small, quick, and nimble (dodgeball, anyone?), an excellent hider, and an opportunistic fighter. I’m also observant of my surroundings, with a mind as fast as a spring-loaded trap. 

People are easy to read, so I have no trouble outwitting them or using their own strategies against them. No, undoubtedly I die at the hands of the Gamekeepers, from some rabid monster squirrel, acid rain, a freak bolt of lightning…..or mutant fire ants. Regular fire ant bites are bad enough, trust me; I fell victim to a swarm of them as a kid, endured 100+ bites, and still had to walk a mile home with my legs simultaneously burning and numb. They are not to be f***ed with.

Just as long as it’s not fire. I hate fire.

I would die for the one I love. 

Okay, so I’m extremely clumsy. Seriously, I make the girl with two left feet look like a swan. And I’ve got the attention span of a gold fish (or Dory, from Finding Nemo, if you wanna get specific with this). Anyways, I’d be standing on the platform, minding my own business, maybe eyeing some dehyedrated fruit-like item or an awesome looking sword with a really, really shiny handle, and I see a butterfly out of the corner of my eye. Now, this isn’t just any butterfly, this thing is beautiful, it has an elaborate design of swirling blues and golds and greens outlined in a shocking black. I reach out to touch the butterfly. I can’t help it. It’s beautiful. So I reach out, and touch it. And just as it lands on my finger, the weight tips me off my platform and I tumble down, and blow to smithereens a second before they let the tributes go.

Wow. That got long fast. 

Well… I most likely wouldnt die right off, i would jump off my platform charging for the Cornicopia as fast as i could before anyone else could get there. Then, I would grab anything i possible could, because everything is useful at one point. Then, i would scan my surroundings, looking for the safest place to go. I would run off far into the woods concealing myself in the trees. When it  gets dark, i would make some traps out off something on the ground and catch anything that comes into my grasp. I would end up being one of the last tributes, not having the nasty job of killing off enemys untill the last ones. Then slowly, somewone would creep up on me, then, “slice” they would spear me instantly before i even new what happened. But, they didnt kill me yet. Right as i figured out what happened, boom. They would kiil me. Right then and there.

Killed near the cornucopia in the first minutes trying to decide between two different weapons I couldn’t use anyway.  Oh well.

I would take a similar RUN and hide approach because I would refuse to kill anyone.  While barely surviving (no food-hunting/water-finding skills) I’d plan how to make my own political “F U!” statement to the Capitol.  However before I get to execute my plan I’d get so comfortable in my awesome hiding place (“No one’s found me yet!”) that I’d fall into a deep sleep with my mouth hanging WIDE open.  I would then accidentally swallow some poisonous insect that had crawled into my mouth while I was sleeping.

I’ve consider myself to have the tongue of a snake(manulipituive through lying) i would form an alliance then when the number dwindle down stab one of my parnter get hunted down then get killed by being stabbed in my sleep

I would probably die after helping other people like Rue and Peeta. I feel like I would be thinking about saving a group of us, and would either be killed by an ally, or killed in the process of saving an ally. I am definitely a survivor, but I think I would have trouble saving myself at someone else’s expense, and I think that would be my downfall.

There is a high probability that I would die in the first few minutes, from not being able to run fast enough. If I survived that through some miracle, then I would probably end up being my own worst enemy. I would find a good cave, with a supply of fresh water, possibly create my own tools and weapons from stones and branches. However, I’d be too confident of my ability to distinguish poison from safe on berries, and would eat the Nightlock thinking it was safe because I was tired of fish. “I ate what?”

I know that I wouldn’t survive the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, so provided that I was able to run away from that (without any supplies), I’d probably end up finding a group of Careers and ask them to kill me mercifully. There is no way I’d be able to survive any aspect of the Games.

I’d likely prevaricate too long, trying to decide whether to run towards the cornucopia or the woods, and then take an arrow in the back from one of the careers as I finally decided to run for the woods. I doubt I’d make it more than 5 minutes.

Knowing my luck, I’d get squished in the lift to the games platform. If I survived that, definitely death by tracker jacker.

If chosen for the Hunger Games, I’d immediately search for nightlock.  I despise being hungry, thirsty, and tired; I am afraid of pain.  What better way to show the Capitol that they can’t control me by saying that I’d rather die than fight their idiotic battle?

Considering I’m allergic to pretty much all plants, I’d probably rise up on the platform into the arena and instantly start sneezing and having itchy skin and eyes. Then my sight’d be too fuzzy to see straight and somebody’d kill me the minute they got their hand on a weapon.

Knowing me I’d most likely accidentally give myself away. After the first night I’d probably be hiding someplace secret but not be able to contain my uncontrollable sobbing. Someone would without a doubt find me and kill me with a good old fashioned sword run-through.

Well, if it were to be anything like my days of AD&D and rolling 1′s, I’d be trying to stealthily creep forward to spy on the enemy and examine their food cache (because I’d have run from the plate into the forest the moment it began and have been without weapons or food), when I would trip on a nonexistent rock, lurch forward into a sapling, rebound against another tree, which shake a squirrel loose from an upper branch, which would fall towards me, when I’d look up with my mouth open, which would have the squirrel fall into it, which would asphyxiate me.  Death by squirrel, no doubt.   

Sprint away from the Cornucopia to the nearest cover as soon as I step off the plate, avoiding the bloodbath. At the earliest opportunity, take out one or two of the weaker tributes until I’ve amassed some weapons and water-treatment supplies. Survive for a couple of days by eating raw game (no way I’d be able to make a fire), drinking lots of water, and hiding, trying always to keep tabs on the Career Pack. Get killed on day 4 or 5 by a stray Career or from rabbit fever.

I have bad knees, a condition called patellofemoral syndrome.  I’m fine most of the time, but I’m pretty sure I’d start running at the beginning and *pfft*, out my knees would go.  The initial Cornucopia melee would happen while I’m crawling to some kind of shelter, and then someone would stumble across me and put me out of my misery pretty quick.  I wish I could say I’m more bad-ass than that (take my weak knees out of the equation and I could probably last a bit longer), but I know my body’s weakness – and know it’ll crop up at the worst possible moment.

While I would like to think that I would win because of my awesome self preservation skills, I would probably be taken out by a tracker jacker…because I accidentally hit the nest. Yep, no glorious death for me in suspenseful hand to hand combat. Heck, knowing my luck, I would get killed the first day. 

I would rig it so that I’d kill myself in a way that they’d have to show (since I suspect the game makers aren’t fond of showing suicides), probably by eating the poisoned berries as I attacked (or attempted to attack) another player. 

Using my mad fast talking skills I convince the careers to keep me alive due to some useful skill I have. They kill me after two days when they realize that I do not actually posses whatever useful skill I claimed to have.

Ok, this has me delurked! I would last through the first bloodbath by hanging back and just going in later for the scraps, but would then die stupidly by tripping over a rock, falling in a creek, and then being set upon by the nearest tribute once they stopped laughing.

I would adopt Foxface’s apparent strategy: hide, and let everyone else kill each other off; and I would probably die the way she did- accidentally eating something poisonous.

I’d probably be dumb enough to go for the Cornucopia – not the good stuff, like tents or weapons, just maybe some jerky or flints or rope – and then make a mad dash in some random direction. Since I ran off with no real plan, and run like an elephant, get a stitch from running too hard, and decide to rest in the forest and make a fire. That makes billows of smoke. For everyone to see for miles and miles.
Then probably get ambushed and if somehow I didn’t get a spear through my chest, run smack into a tree, break my glasses and get my head kicked in to death.

While I would hope that I could survive, I’m pretty sure I would die.  Not in a heroic, singing-the-songs-of-the-martyrs way.  In an “all I could remember is memes and decided to drink my own piss” way. Not realizing that this is, in fact, troll science at its finest, I would collect and drink my own bodily fluids (mostly tears, although I make no promises) until the saline in them dehydrated me and I died a thoroughly undignified death.

I am the least stealthy person ever. I would attempt to hide (because I would be too terrified to even attempt to kill my peers) and I would mess it up. I imagine I would be perched in a tree, and I would get too scared when another tribute was near, that I’d fall right into their laps. Ahh, easy pickings. I’d be dead before the end of the first day.

Hmmm, I suspect I would die in the first couple of minutes fleeing from the cornucopia because I am a slow runner – definitely not a career! If I make it out of there, I think I’d go with the Foxface strategy of sneaking around and trying not to get noticed, but I’d probably get caught and taken out! Sneaky I can do, but stealth, not so much

If I actually manage to make it away from the cornucopia (I’m a terrible runner but an excellent swimmer, ahem), I’d probably hide out until my hunger was unbearable (so like, a day) and then get stuck with an arrow or thrown knife I didn’t even see coming while I was stuffing my face with (likely poisonous) berries.

I don’t think I would make it off the platform!  My balance isn’t that great so I’d probably trip off the platform before the 30 second countdown was finished, causing the platform to blow up along with me.  Bummer.

I imagine it would go much like dodgeball in gym class. I would run and hide and do pretty well for a while. I’d do rather well surviving in the wilderness. Then someone would find me and shoot at me. They would have missed, but I tried to dodge it, and instead dove into it’s path.

I’d be trying to run away from the Cornucopia, when someone comes up behind me, stabs me, and yells “KNIFE to meet you!” then runs away laughing manically.

At least, that’s what I’d like to see.

I asked my husband and he says I am mouthy and clumsy so I would probably shout insults at some one then try and run away(leading them into a masterfully crafted trap) but trip and fall in myself and be killed. 

I would try and fight it out at the cornucopia i would asume just because if i died it would be quick and if i didnt i would be well on my way to winning because everyone around me would be dead. Either that or i would use my speed to grab everything i could and set up a lot of traps and climb a high tree and hide whilst dropping bombs or something on peoples heads. I would die from getting an arrow in my knee from Katniss and falling out of the tree on my own bomb…

I’d like to say that I’d die while making a valiant stand against the Games and Capitol, but I know I wouldn’t.  I’d probably end up running towards the Cornucopia, realize that I can’t make it, turn around to run into the woods, and get a spear in the back. 

With my luck I probably would end up as the winner, but as I was jumping up and down celebrating, I would trip and fall into the lake and drown….

I would most likely die in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, attempting to get good supplies and weapons. I like to think I’d take out a couple other tributes first.

I would probably be picked off right in the beginning, running for the
goodies in the cornucopia. I have no experience living in the wilderness
and without a weapon I’m pretty weak, so I’d HAVE to try for it in
order to survive. 

Since I was never good at any survival game (even in Oregon Trail I quickly led my characters to starvation or drowned), so I imagine I’d die of starvation or dehydration. Or, knowing my luck, dysentery…

I’m a fast runner. I pass any and all opportunities for food and weapons at the cornucopia and head directly into nearby woods. I’m small, I’m quiet, and I hide. After several exhaustive days of avoiding confrontation, I fall asleep and never wake up. My unseen killer is quick with their blade.

I would probably have a panic attack, be too terrified to figure out what I should do, and be killed rather quickly.  

Hypoglycemia’s a bitch. Dead within the first few hours without food in a shaking confused mess. Alternatively I pull a Foxface and accidentally eat nightlock because I didn’t pay enough attention during Oregon Trail.

Oh, I was in Scouts, I may last for awhile in the wilderness, however, I would probably get an arrow through my chest. Sure, I would hear someone coming, but after playing enough Call of Duty, I’ve found that I would definitely miss seeing the archer before it’s too late.

But what would actually kill me? Falling out of a tree while trying to climb it while running away from a horde of feral Rodents Of Unusual Sizes that the gamemakers release after day three.

I’d rely on stealth and no alliances like Foxface did, but probably wouldn’t eat the berries. You should really watch someone eat berries before eating them yourself. But I’m a picky eater anyway and would end up malnourished and miserable from chewing on roots. It would only be a matter of time before I was drawn out and had to fight another tribute, probably a career, and while I am small and wiry, there is no way I can handle strength. They catch me by the hair (should have cut it as soon as I hit the arena) and put me in a hold, their arm pressing down on my throat. I fight and struggle, even get a few bites and jabs in, go absolutely feral, and then just slowly lose the ability to fight anymore. No blaze of glory. No victory. Just a skinny girl that couldn’t manage to feed herself bested by some stupid behemoth from a wealthier district. 

The scene opens with me running towards the Cornucopia. I am a little behind everyone else and, as I am approaching the platform, the guy in front of me gets his skull split open by some girl with an ax. I promptly bend over and up-chuck my last meal which, of course, gives ax-girl the perfect opportunity to lop off my head. End scene…Yeah, I don’t do well with real gore.

I would hide myself as best as I could from the other tributes, but sooner or later I’d probably take an arrow to the knee or to be more accurate, the chest. 

Flash “DOWN WITH THE CAPITOL” mockingjay derriere tattoo. Receive gift of food, including hams and buns, from sponsor for sheer ‘cheek.’ Choke on ham sandwich. 

My downfall would be bugs, yes bugs.  I would not be killed by any of the fancy mutts, large predators or careers.  I would be attacked by a butterfly and would flip my sh*t only to trip over my own feet and bash my head into a rock.  Hopefully they would at least edit my death to look cool… but that is probably asking too much.

I’d probably get in good with the careers to get as far through the game as possible.  They’d probably backstab me before I could get them.

Takako Chigusa would probably end up getting me with that scythe…wait, Hunger what?

I would die by trap most likely. something sharp or flamey would be my luck lol.

I would probably last the first day or so because I fancy myself at least a decent fighter and survivalist. I would get the hell out of Dodge instead of going for the Cornucopia and hole myself up somewhere until I could get the lay of the land. However, I wouldn’t stand a chance against crazed Career tributes. I’m also most likely to get trapped by something that the gamemakers concoct to try and drive me out of my hidey hole.

Wilderness survival? No problem. Slaying my fellow tributes? No problem. Remembering not to pet a doggie I don’t know? Hmmm, guess the Capitol found my weekness… My soft spot for canine companions will see me defeated as I try to make friends with a mutt. :)

I’d probably try to stay very close to the edge of something so that if anyone came towards me I’d at least have a few seconds of flying. Likely I’ll just be stabbed or shot though, in which case I’d probably die biting a chunk out of whoever was attacking me provided they were close. As I die I’d sing out a shakey and most likely blood vomit inducing song till I stopped. If I could say one last thing after singing, I’d try to scream out ‘May the odds be ever in your favour’ however due to bloodloss and injury it’s gonna be a garbled sounding mess… Fun times!

(Bearing in mind my post in irrelevant, as I am from the UK, I’d still like to post a comment)

=( Can’t even try to win… I’m in Portugal…

I would like to think I would die a noble death but….. it would not happen. I am a vegetarian.  I have no idea how to hunt and I would not be able to find edible plants. I would accidently poison myself or starve to death. It is the Hunger Games after all.

I’ve never been known for my athleticism, so it would be quick and not very pretty.

Killed by mutant clones with my face….blargh!

Considering I know nothing about nature, and everything about eating anything in sight – assuming I survive the battle at the cornucopia, I’d eat a poison berry and die a totally less cool death than Katniss and Peeta would have. 

I’m pretty smart and pretty sneaky, so my first move is to head away from the crowd. I loot the supplies of others while they’re not looking, and I do pretty well at this for a while, avoiding confrontation and just keeping myself alive. My downfall is that, like Marty McFly, I can’t take an insult– while sneaking up in two other Tributes, I overhear one of them talking smack about me, calling me a coward for hanging in the the shadows., I’m overcome with rage, and before I know it, I pounce on the big mouth who’d been pouring out the insults. Turns out the boy is huge– massive muscles and weight enough to wrestle me to the ground, while his friend (laughing hysterically) pulls out a knife and finishes the job.

Poison berries, definitely. It’ll be the price I pay for not being outdoorsy. 

My guess is that I’d be lowly rated on my potential threat pre-game.  Some kind person would offer to team up, which I gratefully accept–then get stabbed in the back.

I would last until about the third day in the arena, surviving off of fish I caught and fresh berries. Then, on the third night, I’d catch the trail of the boy from District 11 and begin to stalk him. When I’m within an arm’s reach of him, knife in hand, he would shout, “The Eleventh Doctor totally beats the Tenth Doctor! Arrested Development was overrated! Bring back Firefly!” Like an arrow through my heart, I fall desperately in love with this boy I’ve only just met. And in my moment of weakness, I actually get an arrow through the heart, courtesy of his ally in the trees. Curse my geeky love!

I’d run right into some trap or bump into one of the nasty engineered animals and that’d be the end of me. Or I’d fall out of a tree while trying to hide.

At first I would be winning, calling on my knowledge of all the times I’ve watched Predator and going all Arnold on everyone, which means someone would have to kill me with a bomb. I would hate to die in a lame way. There better be pyrotechnics. This chic demands excellence. And my last words would be something cheesy and legendary, like “Today is a good day to die.”

I would absolutely die as a result of betrayal. I’d form some sort of ill-begotten pact and then be all surprised when my compatriot totally stabs me in the back. Good old too-trusting Lexie, that’s what they’ll say about me in the Capitol. 

I’d die laughing and shaking my head, waiting to wake up from this crazy dream.  Either that or I’d win the game because my strength, speed and skill with bow and knife are unmatched and I am a ruthless killer of teenagers.  Yeah, that.

I’m clumsy with less than stellar balance and weak ankle joints. So while I’d have this wonderful plan about how I’d use my encyclopedic knowledge of survival to wait everybody out, I’d stand poised on the launch pad, ready to go, lose my balance out of my anticipatory pose, and fall over. My gooey bits would fly everywhere, hopefully blinding somebody that I didn’t like in training and starting off a chain reaction.

So much for plans.

I’m a total turtle, so I would definitely go to one of the environmental effects intended to flush people like me out. Wall of fire- whoops!

I would use all of my considerable hide and seek talent to evade the other tributes for a few days. Unfortunately, this would upset the gamekeepers who would attempt to flush me out of my hiding place.  I would be able to evade the flood they sent after me, but would ultimately get killed by the grizzly bear/cobra muttation.

I would stand on the platform waiting for the games to begin watching my urine slowly puddle at my feet, then flow off the platform setting off a mine . . . BOOM . . . death by bladder malfunction.

My grand finale would be from looking into the heart of the TARDIS.
Consumed with so much light and power from multiple universes, I would rewrite history so that Katniss and her entire world never existed just before my body would be transformed into stardust and scattered across the galaxies.

Never in their interview was a Tribute ever asked the question “How do you think you’ll die?”  Oh, Caesar might try and get cute and try “How well do you think you’ll do?” The Tribute may try and go modest and say “I’ll do my best”, but that’s just code for “I’m NOT going to die, you blue-haired woman, I’m coming out carried on the shoulders of the adoring public”.

No one ever succeeded by trying to figure out how to come in second. In a world as inherently competitive as Panem, the mindset has to be “Win”.  “Hope to survive” just means “Die last”.

I would rage and kick and scream and call undue and unwise attention to myself from  outside the arena perimeter because I don’t even have the opportunity to win since I don’t live in the States….I mean Panem. 

Being a fan of Survivor I’d attempt to form an all female (‘cause that’s how I roll) alliance while still in the Training Center. I’m not fast or particularly strong, but I think my leadership skills could carry me at least a few days in the arena. I’m super unlucky, so my guess is that eventually I’d get caught up in a trap or snare and get a spear through the chest. My death would cause my group to implode upon itself; ultimately leading to the demise of my entire alliance by their own hands.

So while I’ll already be dead, I’d ultimately be responsible for at least two or three kills!

I would either die of exposure or shame after eating my costume.

I am a lesbian so I would be distracted by a beautiful woman and lose so she could win or stumble off a cliff trying to prove my love.

I would just kill myself. I’d rather do that than take the lives of others, even people I might suspect deserve it. I’d rather retain my autonomy in death. :)

I’m gonna be honest, I wouldn’t make it past the bloodbath. I’ve got a chronic condition, and as a result, can’t run worth a darn. So my plan would be to throw myself into the fray and try to take out as many careers as I could, with my (seriously true to life) excellent marksmanship. I would have another competitor in mind that I want to win, and do my best to knock out as much of their evil competition as I could. If I’m gonna go out, I’m gonna do it making a statement.

In a world where ruthless determination, ingenuity, and fitness ruled your fate, I would be the cannon fodder destined to be remembered only because their death set a new record for quickness.  I have bad timing.  I’d probably step off the platform too fast or too slow, and bam, death.

I’d die immediately when they opened the pods since I would first try to run for a bag (realize it’s a bad idea) and get killed by one of the other contestants.  Since I wouldn’t be able to outrun them and have no self defense skills.  Or if they let us go in the water I’d freak out and drown in the water.  

I’d just die.  I’d trip over a mine, one of the monsters would catch me or I’d starve/die of thirst!

I would die taking out as many of the careers as I possibly could.  I would set some sort of trap and then set a big fire to lead them all to me and hide.  But I would have to be close enough to set off the trap which means that I would get caught up in it. I would die with valor and honor knowing that I had done something to take down the carreers because face it…none of us want them to win.

I totally would not trip on a root and crack my head on a rock ten seconds after the games began. I tried something like that with a bicycle a couple of years ago and showed that my head was much too thick for something as simple as that. Somebody would yell, “Christine, Duck!” and I would turn around and say, “What?” The rock in motion would get the job done. 

I’m too clumsy and I have no aim, so at any point, I’d likely fall off something not even all that high and die. Or I’d try to throw something and miss, and get killed while scrabbling for something else to throw. Nah, I wouldn’t get that far!

How I would want to go: Shout a political statement at the cornucopia before the signal is given, knowing it’s the one time they can’t cut away, then intentionally step on a mine so they can’t punish me.

How it would actually happen: Eaten by a koala, the world’s most adorable muttation, that has dropped from a poisonous eucalyptus tree.

Knowing me, I’d trip and fall on my own weapon. Because I’m just that good.

I think I would last a little while–8 years in the Army and two deployments didn’t teach me nothing–but, like some of the above commenters, I think I would be dispatched by refusing to eat disgusting things. When I was in boot camp, I would eat nothing for days in the field but packets of peanut butter, and I don’t think I would find many of those in the games.

OK. So, obviously, OBVIOUSLY I would die. It would happen one of two ways: either I would be killed right in front of the cornucopia… or I would be killed by some game-maker decision while cowering and hiding from the other tributes.

(Thank you for not making this a facebook contest.)

I would approach (and lose) at the hunger games in the same manner I lose playing hide-and-go-seek. I would climb a tree, and everyone would forget I was there and “go back inside”- a winner would be chosen and I would be in the tree oblivious, wondering how long it would continue. Although technically I would ‘win’ the hunger games by being the last one left, I would be stranded inside the abandonned arena as all of the traps malfunction and I am subject to tides of tracker jackers and the like until I fall out and break my neck. BUT I WOULD HAVE WON! (technically).

I’d probably survive for a few days by hiding from everyone, but then the Gamemakers would trigger a trap and I wouldn’t be able to outrun it.  Death by trap, RIP me.

Knowing my convictions, probably from hesitating too long trying to kill someone I feel doesn’t deserve to die.  Or protecting someone I feel was too weak to watch over themselves in the arena, to give them a fighting chance.

I thought about this a lot while I was reading all the books. I would know I could never outrun the others, or shoot an arrow to hunt for food – or make a fire without matches.  I would probably hole up in the cave and slowly starve to death waiting for the other tributes to kill each other and just hoping whoever found me was quick about it. Or else I would win by default….as I dehydrate on camera.

“Wow, I can’t believe I survived for as long as have.Oh..my..god….ARE THOSE BLACKBERRIES?!!?” Unfortunately, blackberries don’t grow on trees…oops.

I’m short and pretty scrawny, but I’m a quick runner, and I used to do cross country. So as soon as the buzzer sounds, I’d be off like a shot, fleeing the Cornucopia and the other tributes… however, since I can’t run at breakneck speed and watch behind me for other tributes, I’d keep checking over my shoulder, and consequently, I’d run into a low but sturdy tree branch, impaling myself in a most disgraceful fashion. The impact on the tree would immediately alert the tracker jackers, the evil monkeys, AND the fluffy carnivorous squirrels, all of which would swarm my body and eat me alive while I screamed obscenities at the Capital, hopefully something epic like, “CARTHAGO DELENDA EST!” 

My skill is speaking clever riddles, which earns me a rating of 2 before the Gamemakers–at least I’m not clumsy. My low score is my best defense, since the careers figure I’ll die on my own and focus on eliminating more dangerous prey. Capitol viewers enjoy my whispered riddles, so I’m treated gently and sequestered from the action until I encounter an in-game sphynx, who is guarding an invisibility cloak, a sack of warm, roasted chestnuts, and a Kindle. I am burned to death by her laser eyes when I can only think of a dirty answer for “What fits neatly between your breasts, works best when tugged, and inserts neatly into a whole?”

OK, so I would avoid the cornucopia and run to the forest. I’d fill up on strawberries and then hide in a hollowed out tree. Ut ooh, got scratched as my hand got grazed when I passed a tree. Infection, deeeeeaaaaaaathhhhh. 

I’m hiding up in a tree, thinking life is fine and dandy until I see what I believe is a Carnivorous Golden Squirrel from the last Quarter Quell. I panic, fall out of the tree…and land in the bushes, somehow surviving. Then I walk into a force field and die. They have to fix my frizzed-out hair before they send me back home, unfortunately.

I would be the Tribute who takes all the Survivalist type classes in the few days before the games (foraging food, etc) and basic Knife fighting to try and last a little longer. I’d make a swipe for one or two of the “lesser” prizes at the edge of the Cornucopia before heading off to the woods. I may not be the fastest person, but I know I endure well, so I think I’d last a little bit longer than some. I might even take out a few before going down in a fight. I could see myself camouflaged/hiding and seeing one of the punk Careers by themselves and try and take them out, hoping that surprise is on my side in a close in fight. I’d like to think it helps and that even if they get me, I’ve gotten them bad enough that we die at the same time.

If I were to die, I’d take them with me. Revenge is best served hot.

Ha! “may the odds be ever in your favor”? Let me tell you how I died…

All I got from the conucopia was a shaving kit. I modified it to the best of my abilities, using the kit’s bag as a makeshift slingshot. I strapped the razor from the shaving kit to my wrist. If worst came to worst, I could use it as a last-ditch melee weapon. With any luck, I wouldn’t need it. As I was finishing my weapon, I was confronted with my first fight. I was killed because when I tried to fire my weapon…The mods were caught in my razor.

I’d probably try to hide and wait things out, and get killed by the gamemakers by a flash flood or a wall of fire or something.

“May the odds be ever in your favor”- a small, glimmering ray of hope to all tributes.  My hope would be helplessly dashed by an ironic demise.  Trying to mimic the genius of Katniss Everdeen, I would attempt to use the deadly nest of the Tracker Jacker to disperse my competitors. My attempt would go horridly wrong, resulting in a death due to extreme hallucinations paired with hazardous surroundings.    

I would most likely die because I was fighting someone who simply over-powered me. I would make sure though that, like Peeta, I would go out being me. I would go out fighting!

I probably wouldn’t be the first to die. . . but definitely in the first three or so. I’m smart enough to run quickly away from the Cornucopia, and light enough to climb trees, but I have no clue how to track or kill/gut animals.

So I’d probably end up dying from starvation. And turned into some sort of Mutt. :/

 I die in a blaze of glory once the Gamekeepers get bored. Probably second day in.

Honestly, I’d die pretty early on. I have zero stealth training, I’m clumsy, and I’m not trusting enough to make any alliances. Assuming I managed to grab a bag with some food and a weapon from the Cornucopia, I’d run for the woods, climb a tree, and be too scared to move. If the tracker jackers didn’t get me, then one night I’d hear a twig snap, panic, fall out of the tree, and break my neck. If the fall didn’t kill me, I’d make a ton of noise and some other tribute would find me and finish me off.

I would probably run and hide and accidentally eat something poisonous because I don’t have survivalist skills. Or I’d trip and crack my head open. I would only hope the other tribute from my district was more capable than me. 

I’d like to say I would handle my own for the first day or two. I know basic self-defense and adrenaline is a powerful thing. Although, I have weak ankles and loose joints so I would probably break my foot running (happened twice now) and without the ability to escape I would go down fighting with someone much stronger. I would probably take a knife to the heart or perhaps something more gloriously epic. Well, I wish, knowing me I might just fall into a trap of some kind. Like a derp. 

 More than likely, I’d die taking off before allowed and get blown to bits with a mine.

I like to think I’d do okay, but ultimately it would be my over confidence that would cause me to be killed by something stupid. Not purifying my water well enough, eating bad food, or underestimating my opponents. 

I’d probably die of starvation, alone, in the best hiding spot ever — when there’s only a handful of people left.

Things were going so well until I tripped and fell into a pit trap. Full of pointy things or fire. Probably both.

My scatter-brained indecisiveness would be my downfall. I would be debating whether to run or go for the Cornucopia so intensely in my head during the countdown that I would freeze at the moment of decision, still undecided, and likely have my head chopped off by a Career within 60 seconds. 

I would probably find a cause within the first day to tell the truth, I’m not very good at surviving things. So, my blaze of pathetic semi glory would be my own doing. I sense some lolly gagging admiring the flora and then from inside one of the flowers a tracker jacker would show itself. I’d be stung and after suffering from intense mind boggling hallucinations cut my own throat by the very flower in which the tracker jacker was seen. 

I’d probably starve to death. I was a Girl Scout, but the only thing I remember learning to make on our camping trips were brownies. And I couldn’t tell you which plants are edible and which were poisonous, so I’d probably just stay away from them all.

I would slip and fall within an hour of the start of the Games. Tragically, this fall would break my glasses. I would try to bravely (and blindly) make my way through, but would become ever more injured and confused with each stroke of the clock (or, if we’re in the 74th games, with each storm and fireball.) Finally, I would unknowing stop for a rest in the middle of the Career’s camp, where I would be brutally eliminated. 

 I’d most likely die after forming an alliance with the wrong person.  I’m gullible and they would kill me when I rested.

I would most likely run as quickly as possible into an area with trees, climb up, and hide. I wouldn’t even bother with weapons because I couldn’t kill someone. My plan is to just hide and wait it out, hoping no one finds me and that I don’t die of starvation or thirst before they kill each other off. But, I accidentally nod off after two days and fall from the tree to my death.

 Those packs of food would call to my greedy brain, and I’d waste valuable time grabbing as much as possible.  I’d find somewhere to hide, but my sounds of enjoyment at the delicious meal would give me away.  But I’d have one thing over those other tributes- I’d die eating.

I would hide immediately and stay hidden. As the days passed and no one came to kill me I would get more and more confident in my hiding place, but not confident enough to leave it to try to find water or food. Eventually, as I’m dying of dehydration, a career would casually stroll up and stab me to death with one stroke. Turns out I’m terrible at hiding and they knew where I was the whole time, but I was such easy pickings they just saved me for the end for funsies. 

I would like to believe that I’d go out with compassion, perhaps dying to save another tribute. My father has been deployed for nearly four years now, and I’ve had to help raise my little brother in that timeframe, so I definitely believe that I would become incredibly protective of a tribute like Rue. Either that, or I’d probably lose my balance and fall off of the platform during the countdown before the run to the Cornucopia. 

I am an extremely shy person. I tend to not speak with people, and only do it if someone else starts a conversation. During the training days, I would spend as much time learning about how to survive as possible. I would learn how to recognize poisonous plants – not just to prevent me from eating them, but also to use to take down my opponents.

As I am also squeamish, I would also spend time learning how to make snares and traps. I doubt I would spend much time learning archery – it would be nice to kill my opponents from afar, but shooting a bow takes a lot of arm strength, plus a lot of practice to learn how to aim. This sort of mastery isn’t possible in three days, and it would detract from the other things I could be learning. It would also rely on a bow being provided at the Cornucopia – wouldn’t is suck to spend all of your time learning a weapon, only to have no chance to use that knowledge? The same could be said of most weapons. Snares and traps, however, are fairly easy to learn, and most are intended to be made using the materials you find at the intended spot.

The second the Hunger Games began, I would take off for the wilderness. I would not try to battle for supplies – it would take me too long to get over my initial squeamishness and I would likely be one of the casualties of that first big battle. To avoid that, I would get a good distance, then start making traps as I go, marking them somehow so that I could identify and avoid them later on.

After the third day had passed, and the tributes had dropped to a quarter of their initial number, the gamemakers and audience would begin to grow bored. To force the remaining tributes together, they would start a stampede around the edges of the arena, herding people in.

I would be asleep when it happened. My first thought would be an earthquake, but the number of animals running by – from squirrels and rabbits to bears and wolves, would have me up and running too, leaving behind any supplies I may have collected. Unknown to me, a horde of venomous spiders had been released during the stampede. When I got to the center, where the other tributes were fighting at the Cornucopia, I would feel something bite my arm. I would recognize it as a mutated spider, big and black with crimson red markings. Before I could think of anything else, I would fall to the ground.

The cannons would sound and the hovercraft would come to take me away. At least my body would be in one piece for my family and friends to bury.

I would either get taken out in the opening rush for a weapon or my naive ass would team up with someone and get taken out in my sleep.

I am very good at hiding, but sadly would probably be killed by an acid spewing, meat-eating plant, after creeping out to pee and trying to use one of its leaves to wipe…

Sadly I would probably trip and fall at that first lunge to the cornucopia and be stomped to death. I enjoyed the series and totally look forward to the weekend.

At my age, I know I wouldn’t win, so it would be all about making sure that clips of my death live on in replays of the Games forever. Therefore, I make an immediate dash from my metal plate to the top of the Cornucopia. While others fight over supplies below, I make my way to the top and then just swan dive off the thing! if I can try to land on someone I will, but at least I will have a terrific moment of flight before I die.

(deleted accidental double post)

Working in the district has
been an endless struggle against the foulest of working conditions and gnawing
hunger. There are too many pieces of paper with my name on them. The populace
of my district has long been convinced my time for the games is now. The prophecy
has come true. All I am left with is my one thought. Live.

Standing on the plate all
there is, is focus on a pack at the left of the cornucopia. It’s the signal!
Pushing off of the plate I keep my focus on the pack. I hear the tromping of
many feet to my right. Soon there are blurs to my right. My mind is screaming
run, run to live.

my arm through a strap.
Turning my forward motion into a roll I’m on the

As I near the objective that
is my pack I dive threading ground and picking up a spear. Planting the end of
the spear between the ground and my leg then lifting the point in the direction
of the nearest sound. Looking up just as I feel the jolt on the spear I watch
as one of the competitors impales himself. His weight brings his body ever closer
to me until I am face to face with a terror filled death mask.

It is there again, the scream
from within, run, run to live. I do. I run. I must forget the searing pain in
my lungs as I am unable to draw enough breath. There it is a bee sting to the
back of my neck. No! It is more than a sting, much more. My head has been jarred
back and now I see it. Below my chin there is the glint of sunlight from the
edges of an arrow. No more running. No more living.

I would like to think that I would last quite a long time without having to kill anyone directly. I would go and live in the forest because as a District 8 tribute I would feel more comfortable there however as I had got comfortable preparing to wait it out until the end the gamemakers would be annoyed I hadn’t got involved in anything. One night while sleeping in the trees I am woken by the whole forest shaking before I can react I am thrown from the tree to the ground and while winded, am trampled by elephant style mutts who herd the rest of the tributes to the cornucopia for the grand finale.

I would probably have a really bad mentor or a drunk like haymitch and get all ready for the games by myself. I would escape from the cornucopia with a container for water and a weapon and wood for food. But as I couldn’t find any game, I ask my mentor for some food and he lets sponsors send me whatever I want. Then some weird dude who hates my guts will send me poisonous food. Thanks a lot weird dude, I hate your guts too.

I’d probably shoot myself with my own arrow in the face. Very Ironic, and very,very stupid.

Okay, so I would definitely try to kill people indirectly like Katness but i don’t think that would last to long because i would make an alliance with one of the younger tribunes to try to protect them for as long as i could  until it was down to my district and there district and then its every man for them selfs.what would happen is i am trying to find food while hiding out i would here my district member call my name and run to see if he was okay when i get there he is holding my newly made alliance, the younger tribune, by the neck and having a knife on it i would scream “put her down” he would not listen and say “i told you not to make any alliances all of these people deserve to did but us! we should win!” then out of no where the younger tribunes district member would blow past my partner and his and come charging at me hocked up on some adrenalin enhancing drug most likely a steroid of some sort he snuck in to make sure he won. he would charge at me with his knife in hand trying to kill me i struggle to get my partners attention to stab him in the back but he had all ready made an alliance with the other district ” you realize that this is going to kill you too right!” i scram struggling to get a 190 pound boy with a machete looking knife off of me with my own. “i don’t care you deserve to die this way killing half of the districts off in that fire you started” finally i get the boy off of me. “YOUR DEAD” he screams but not at me at my district member and runs at him slinging his knife at him i jump in front of him making the knife him me not him my partner says ” why did you do that after what i did to you” i reply ” you got what you wanted to see me die in pain” as we lay on the rocky ground not able to move without something hurting “Thank you” i here my partner say to me right before i close my eyes on what is left of my partner after every thing that we had gone through.    

Supposing I didn’t die from the trying to grab an item from the cornocopia or from dehydration/starvation, I’d probably die before the start of day two in a one on one confrontation where, if even the odds were equal, I wouldn’t be able to kill my opponent for moralistic reasons, doubling as a “screw you” to Snow. What sucks is that a snotty career is probably the one to have canon “toll” for me.

I would climb the Cornucopia–the Capitol’s symbol of wealth and bounty–and sit on it, doing nothing. Eventually I would starve to death, which is also pretty boring in terms of gore and guts and everything that people would find entertaining.  This way, I would not participate in the Games and rob people of the spectacle that comes from stepping off the plate.  It would be my way of showing the Capitol that their wealth doesn’t put them above me in any way that truly matters. 

I can generally make my way through a horde of zombies or an outbreak of rabies infected Tributes, but when it comes down to the breaking point, the gamemakers would unleash all sorts of cray cray up in the games. When dancing around the others and avoiding fights at all costs, I’d probably fall to inherently trusting another. My end would surely come at the worst time, while we’re sleeping or eating and my shields are down. 

I would probably be tricked by an opportunist hot guy guy pretending to love me. It would be my own fault for my shallow weakness, letting someone take advantage of me. It would classic. He’d stab me in the back.

I guarantee I would die at the hand of the game-makers. Staying alive is the best advice a person can be given. I’d stay alive as long as i could..alone…surviving best I could just like Foxface. If i die you know it’ll be by the game-makers.

I have only one talent: hula-hooping. Normally, that wouldn’t be any use in the arena, but, as we know, the Game Makers are a twisted bunch. When the game starts I’ll spot a Atomic Laser Hula-Hoop 3000 in the Cornucopia. This strange, Capitol weapon can take out a dozen opponents with a mere swing of my hips. I’ll run towards the Cornucopia, forgetting about the much stronger Tributes who are hot on my heels. I’ll make it to the hula-hoop, but not before taking a knife to the back. I’ll have just enough strength to use the hula-hoop once, taking out half of the other Tributes and the entire Cornucopia with me in a fiery blast of hula-hooping glory. 

I would be dashing through some vines and the more I tried to get through them the more I would be ensnared in their thorny grip. As I hung there struggling I would feel a sharp jab and then a shifted weight as my insides were lifted upward from the spear tip lifting as gravity dropped the spears shaft to the ground. I would die only seeing the color of the spear tip and knowing it was from the other chosen in my district.
Ever since I was little vines have been my only enemy among the shrubbery :( Dang you, shrubs of doom!

I would probably talk myself to death. Let me explain. I can hunt and cook like Katniss, so I would team up with others  I trust and and last till the end. The capital would have to send some sort of mutant peacocks to kill us because we could not agree on who would kill the other. I would literally talk myself to death by boring the gamemaker etc with my constant blabbing.

I have only one talent: hula-hooping. Normally, that wouldn’t be any use in the arena, but, as we know, the Game Makers are a twisted bunch. When the game starts I’ll spot a Atomic Laser Hula-Hoop 3000 in the Cornucopia. This strange, Capitol weapon can take out a dozen opponents with a mere swing of my hips. I’ll run towards the Cornucopia, forgetting about the much stronger Tributes who are hot on my heels. I’ll make it to the hula-hoop, but not before taking a knife to the back. I’ll have just enough strength to use the hula-hoop once, taking out half of the other Tributes and the entire Cornucopia with me in a fiery blast of hula-hooping glory. 

I would join an alliance with the careers, earning my keep with my ability to kludge up machines.  Since I tend to be too trusting, I’d probably misjudge my timing on when the alliance was getting ready to fracture and be done in by my erstwhile allies.

Being that I would be in a work of fiction, I would be the Tyler Durden version of myself; the person I long to see when I look in the mirror, but never returns my gaze. I would be stronger and faster, and my words would flow as steadily as they do when written. I would be a fighter, would reach my essential items at the Cornucopia, would let the others kill each other off, and upon the realization that if there were no victor, it may throw the Capitol into chaos, I would sacrifice myself, looking dead into the cameras while I have everyone’s attention. I would be that martyr in the hopes that it may bring the Capitol down that much quicker.

I wouldn’t be a very brutal person, but would probably choose to run and hide (mostly hide) because I’m honestly not physically fit and don’t have much stomach for violence. I would then probably end up dying of starvation or some gamemaker-related incident as, while I’m fairly good at hiding and wouldn’t be found very easily by other competitors, I morally don’t believe in killing animals for food, so that would eliminate most food sources and would doubtfully get any sponsors because of my lack of promise. But because that’s boring television I would probably die when the gamemakers decide to sick a wild pack of birdmutts on me and I scream and try to run but they get me in the end and it’s gross and disgusting.

I would probably survive a few days by joining forces with someone because they will underestimate me (actually it wouldn’t really be underestimating considering they would be right in thinking I was weak). I’d use my wit and intelligence in order to be spared for as long as I could and then when the time came I would not be able to kill anyone, so I’d probably be killed by someone who is less humane than me or from something the Capital throws at me to try to get me to do something. In all honesty though, there is a chance that by being in the games I’d became barbaric, it which case, who knows what will happen. I may just kill myself right away to avoid the inevitable death at a later date and finding out the terrible person I may become.

In trying to outsmart the stronger tributes I would probably do something more dangerous and die. Like run thought one of the Gamemasters death traps trying to lead the other into what they dont know but end up eaten by…. I dunno Mutt-aligators.

I would most likely die from running from the Cornucopia as fast as I can to get away from everyone, leaving all the supplies behind .But just when I feel safe I would probably run right into a tree fall on the floor knocking a nest full of tracker jackers all over me and not being able to flee because of the tracker jacker venom. And if that doesn’t kill me I’d probably die from a career tribute from just laying on the floor hallucinating.

I would be the first tribute killed by their own district companion. While other tributes will also have a distinct dislike for me, they won’t know my wiley, nonlinear ways.

My one pervasive thought throughout the first two books: “Don’t they have to go to the bathroom?” That would have been an incredibly stressful little vignette, having to stop to do your business, completely vulnerable, with your head on a swivel.

And that’s probably how I’d die–not during the act itself, but standing around, oblivious to the world, trying neurotically to decide which bush would be the least embarrassing and uncomfortable to use while on camera.

As soon as the 60 seconds are up I’d run for the snorkel I see, I’d jump into the river and survive off the fish. Eventually, towards the end of the game the Gamekeepers decide to dry up the small body of water I’m inhabiting, they use a huge tube to suck it all up and I’d get pulled into the tube along with the water and BOOM! The cannons go off and my face is in the sky…Sorry district 6

As I make my way up the glass encircled platform I hold on to the scarf my mother has given me to wear during the games to represent our district- GAG! WTH? OMG My-GAG! Is caught on the platform I can’t breathe!!! The cannons go off, confused the other tributes look around and when their eyes finally land on me it’s up in the air taken by the Capitol to be muttated.

yeah

I run into the forest to realize I’ve forgotten my inhaler on the train. Gasping for air I decide to hide myself in the spot I stand…being a make- up girl I have done a fantastic job at concealing myself…so well in fact that all the other tributes smash my face in as they make their way into the forest.

If it was a water arena, I would definitely drown because I can’t swim. Any other type, I would probably pull a Peeta for a while and try to hide until the gamemakers decide that I am boring and then they’d probably try to burn me alive… so I may die from smoke inhalation.

I’d spend the first night in a remote area of the games hiding in a hole I’d dig directly in the middle of two other holes that I’d cover with branches. If left alone, the next night I’d scavenge for food, dig a new hole elsewhere and in all likelihood, by driven out by some sort of eyeless Capitol-engineered mole monster that would suck the blood out of me.

Rising on the platform I am determined to run for it, determined that I can’t survive the cornucopia.  But then I see that they have baited me with two fabulous objects near the top of the cornucopia, a towel and the teakettle.  I am debating running for them when I see an even more clever deception, the elder wand near the bottom disguised as a stick. The timer ends and I run, by some miracle I reach the wand only to discover that I am in fact a muggle and cannot use it.  That’s when I take an arrow to the knee and fall down.  As more arrows riddle my body I wish I’d gone for the tea kettle.  Oh well it probably only would have given me a ferret anyway…

Hunger Games Disney princess-style: Not only would I wage psychological warfare on my fellow tributes by sneaking around singing constantly, (probably ”It’s a Small World”) but I would also use my charm youthful naivete to win the hearts and loyalties of all non-explosive/muttation animals within the arena, who steal and forage for me. During a stroll through a bountiful woods, introduced to me by a very kind opposum, I am knocked out by a bitter berry and, thanks to the gift of a curse from one of my sponsors, appear dead to the Capitol. After being hovercrafted away, I am woken by true love’s first kiss back in my district–probably from some Gale type–and the Capitol. is. freaking. out.

I’d die long before the games happened shortly after executing the Game Makers while I should have been exhibiting my skills. I’d like to see the mamby-pamby Game Makers try to fight off one of the tributes.

Me? I’d probably fall when the platform moved to raise me to the Arena, and die as my head was crushed under the ground. I’m so sorry, District 9, I’m just *that clumsy.

I would probably die of an Avada Kedavra curse when I tripped over a wardrobe, dropping my Æsahættr before I could escape into another YA novel universe. 

MY HUNGER GAMES STORY

“Victoria” she declares with a happy ring to her voice. I try to keep the tears from my eyes as everyone waits. As I hope for the voice of a volunteer that I know I won’t hear. My little brother hugs me tightly and looks up at me with his big brown eyes. “I must be brave, for my family” I think. I carefully wrench his hands away and begin my walk to the stage. The painful memory of home hurts. My stylist recognizes my sullen mood and tries to cheer me up. To no prevail. The thin clothing is tight and bothers me but I focus on the food that has just arrived. Before I know it the glass encloses around me and I wave goodbye as I rise up to the arena. “LET THE GAMES BEGIN”I dart to a nearby backpack and sleeping bag. I’m small but I’m fast. I run off with the gear and I have disapeared into by the time the fighting begins. I continue to run further into the forest until I can no longer hear the sound of battle. I slow to a steady walk and find a small pond. I wash my face and sit down to view my bag’s contents. Inside I find a small Bow and a sheath of arrows. Good. I’m not an expert but at least I can shoot from a distance. I also find some water purifier and a container that I quickly fill with water. My stomach grumbles and I look around to see what I can eat. I may not be able to hunt but I have a vast knowledge of plants and the environment. I scavenge around until I find a bush filled with berries that are safe to eat. I fill my bag with them and find a nearby tree. Climbing is another one of my few skills. I was born climbing trees and mountains. I find a thick branch with lots of leaf cover and climb into my sleeping bag for the night. I find my current location to be quite good and decide to stay here. For several day I remain with my schedule of: Clean, Eat, Scavenge, Clean, Eat, Sleep. It works quite well and no one has found me until now…A tall strong girl spots me along the pond and I freeze in terror. She’s carrying a sharp spear and I have nothing at hand. She approaches me causiusly and sits at the pond side. She drops her weapon and looks at me. “Would like to be my ally?” she asks. I immediatly respond with excitement. Who wouldn’t turn down a strong ally? We talk for a little bit and then she heads back into the forest to hunt. Meanwhile, I decide to make a feast! I gather every root and berry that I can find. I then build a fire and await the return of my new ally. She returns with the meat but this time she is not alone. Next to her a bulky boy with sandy blond hair and fierce eyes. The girl to her left is small but clearly strong. She shows no expression with her misty blue eyes. Maybe their just more allies. Suddenly they surround me and in the same second they all pierce me with their spears. I cry out in pain and collapse on the ground. Why had I trusted her? As blood pours from body I hear their laughter and imagine their evil grins. My sight fains and I let go. The darkness engulfs me but I see a new light. One that shines upon a new chance at a new life and a better world…THE END

As much as I would like to think that I would die in some heroic fashion, I know myself well enough to know I would probably die by tripping over my own feet and smacking face first into the barrier at the edge of the arena.  I’m sure it would also be a slow death,  causing me to have enough time to also be hit by many, many Tracker Jackers.  At least I would then be able to hallucinate my way into death.

I’d run and try to skip the immediate bloodbath, focusing on finding somewhere to hide and try to fashion some sort of weapon – probably a spear.  I wouldn’t look for combat, but I wouldn’t shy away from it either, and while I certainly wouldn’t pick a fight, I’d damn sure try to win any.  I’d probably make it until the careers turned on each other, but by then I’d be wounded, and turned desperate instead of cautious, and someone would find me and finish me off.  I’d like to think I’d be brave, and die with at least a little dignity.

The game begins and I run for the closest object – a small knife. I’m bigger than most girls, heavier, but not tall. I’m a fast sprinter but I have little stamina so I avoid others. I’m color blind and deaf in one ear, also very poor night vision. I travel during the day and I’m able to gather berries, chew on grass, and find water to keep myself moving. I can make my own fire, I’m good with a knife and a bow. I’m too big for stealth, too noisy and I know it – but can’t hear it. I’m killed by a quiet opponent who sneaks up behind me and whispers a final farewell. I never hear them.

I actually blogged about this a while ago! It doesn’t look good for me…

It’s not just that I don’t have any physical grace – it’s more like such a
lack of grace that it becomes a disability. In fact, I’d probably set a
new game record or two. It’d go something like this:

Announcer 1: 3…2…1…
Death-cannon: BOOM! BOOM!
Announcer 1: Did Sarah just die before any other tribute even got off their starting positions?
Announcer 2: I believe she did, Bob. In fact, her destruction was so complete
that she managed to take another tribute out with her.
Announcer 1: Outstanding, Steve. Bye-bye District 42.
Announcer 2: *hearty laugh*

I would start with having a few choice alliances that were smart and underestimated — no Careers. I would make it to the top few with my alliances, and I would die when I jump in the way to save another who I believe has more to live for; a more noble cause, someone I know that can make a difference in the world.

I would be a hider. I’d spend most of the games investigating the culinary potential of the arena, attempting to make a five course meal out of sticks, grass, and berries, just to die crazy, hallucinating, and running off a cliff because I sweetened my cupcakes with tracker jacker honey. Oops. 

I would probably die when I was not paying attention and I thought no one was there! Some one would most likely be in a tree or hidding somewhere watching me. I would go out into the open and they would kill me!

I’d probably try to at least be friends with a majority of the tributes before dying, since I’d want to have said I at least made some new friends before I face my death. Then I’d travel as deep as I could into the games and try to find the force field and I’d walk into it because that would be a quick death and plus I’d get to say that I got to explore most of the playing field before dying.

EST or EDT?

I would definitely die in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. Knowing that, I’d probably make a statement by sitting my fat butt down on the pad and refusing to participate. 

I’d take off running into the woods when the game started, and set up a trap. I’d get as much wood, and leaves as possible, and make a circle, 40 feet in diameter, and id climb a tree in the center of the circle; waiting for an alliance, suchas Cato’s in the movie, and shoot the circle with a flaming arrow so that everybody in it is trapped. Then i’ll jump down and fight to the death whatever i can get my hands on, like a rock, knowing that when they eventually kill me in the fight, that all of them are now doomed to a fiery death, and that there is somebody still out there thats still alive, and more deserving to win The Hunger Games!!

Trip. Fall on my nose. Bleed. Continue bleeding. Then I catch pneumonia and die.

I am not very “outdoorsy,” so I’m pretty sure I would die from thirst because I wouldn’t be able to find a water source. And if I miraculously did find water and survive the first few days, I would probably die from some clumsy accident that I brought on myself.

despratly trying to stand still i would probably die of natural causes or being stabbed in the back by one of the careers. i would watch as my raw flesh was carefully oozing out of me, trying to make the last few minutes of my life torturous. and then when everything goes blury i feel a shake on my left arm and wet drips coming down to my arm. i haave to struggle to open my eyes but when i do, i see katniss and peetah desperatley trying to save me, and covering up my injured bind, i finally know that i might have the chance to actually survive.

I would survive the cornucopia bloodbath- barely. I would stay alive and hidden for a few days- luckily. But… I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Every minute I would be on total adrenaline alert, thinking every little noise was a Career ready to ruthlessly tear me to shreds. After several nights of this torture I would nod off… and fall out of the tree I was sleeping in, or awake to exactly what I was dreading, or awake to a gamemaker’s fireball… any way you cut it, my death would come from lack of sleep! 

If i know myself right i would have tried to find cover, but im not a fast runner, just a fast thinker so as i try to reach the woods, another tribute comes after me and puts a knife in my back, he runs on and my tribute friend from my own district stops and stays with me until i die and as i die i ask him to win for me and crush the capitol.

I belive that i would die protecting my tribute friend from my district who was my best friend so with a knife in my back i would die cursing the capitol for everything they stand for, and then making my friend swear that he would win for me

I’m not very wise when it comes to plants. Like Fox  Face, I’d die from eating something poisonous! I probably wouldn’t be the first to die though.

Dashing toward the cornucopia, id punch and kick my way through to get supplies. Id hide in the back of it and stab anyone else who tried to get weapons and food. I would then realize that I’m cornered and didn’t have common sense to make an escape plan. So id probably be ganged up on and die. If not that, I tend to eat a lot, so the second i run out of food, i’d be done. & considering there was no nutella, I would just kill myself. ****

hahahaha perfect

good one

As i ran, a knife flew past my head, i kept running. I knew if i were to stop, i would surely die. I ran for what seemed as an eternity, when i tripped. As i tried to get up, i was pegged with an arrow in the back. I felt as if nothing else mattered, i could only remember how i had felt when i was picked. I felt as i had been thrown off a 20 story building, and here i am now, looking up at the person that would be the one to end my short-lived life. She was beautiful in the sence of looks, and i tried to say that but nothing came out of my mouth. I saw herdraw back the bow then, nothing. I saw nothing. The only thing i saw was blackness. I knew this meant i was dead.

I would die after doing something totally awesome and having it be the main thing in the Hunger Games

Being in the final 12 I would run as far away from any tribute as possible.The gamemakers would probably see this and put a forcefeild up to try to stop me. Attempting to cook some groosling I shot with my bow I would take a stick and touch the groosling to the forcefeild, the forcefield would burst open with energy, leaving me in peices on the ground where the Mockingjays would forever repeat my screams.

 As I was running to the cornacopia

as i run away from the cornucopia towards the woods i relize i have to hide b/c i can not fight or kill. later that night i would become hungry and start eating all the grass and moss and bugs i could find.later in the hunger games as the last two careers surround my hiding spot but little as i know a district two person had jst reached me and stabed me in the back and slowly as i bleed to death i see the district two dude and the two careers fight too the death and three cannons go off as the district two dude kills the careers.

I would run into the forest, not grabbing anything but on my way there, someone stabbed me in my ankle. I’d be dumb enough to turn around and stare at the person who stabbed me. They would take the chance to stab me again, causing near death but I manage to get away knowing I would die within minutes. With my last breath, I mutter “I left a million dollars under the…. ” and then die.

If I were in the hunger games I would survive for a while mysteriously and the die by eating night lock like foxface. Only because I’m weak and I couldnt possibly win

I am running from crazy, blood thirsty tributes. I am tired and I trip and fall. They beat me senses,tie me up in ropes,and throw me in a lake:(